Lies, Illusions and a Match made in Hell
by Eruanna Saerwen
Summary: When a pair of particular Slytherin boys starts taking notice of her, Ginny finds she'll have to rethink some of her Weasley prejudice. With the boy who lived craving her attention, an ill tempered brother interfering when he shouldn't and a manipulative Slytherin bitch wishing her dead, Ginny's 6th year might prove to become more than a little complicated. Mainly GW/DM. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**J.K. Rowling owns everything! Is there some kind of law that says I have to write that in my introduction? Whatever. Anything you wouldn't recognize does not belong to the Almighty Mother herself, but to yours truly. **

**This Ginny/Draco fic is something I actually began writing a couple of years ago. I then published it under another name and it was called "Shadowplay", but I had no idea where I was going with the story and I never came further than that first chapter. Now I suppose I have a slightly better idea of what I'm going for so hopefully this time it'll be better. I've changed the first chapter and stuff as well, so I'm excited. **

**Fic is 1th to 5****th**** book compliant, somewhat 6****th**** book compliant, but Dumbledore never died and Draco was never supposed to kill him. Ginny and Harry never ended up dating. **

**Follows Draco's 7****th**** year and Ginny's 6****th****. Rated M for language and future possible lemons/smut/sexy-time (who am I kidding, of course there'll be smut!)**

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**Chapter 1: Celebrated Sins and a Bucket of Scotch**

Malfoy Manor was alight with celebration. Everyone was having an excellent evening, and naturally _everyone _was there, anyone of importance at least. The Malfoy's were famous in the higher circles of society for their parties and they didn't disappoint.

However, there was one person who didn't seem to be enjoying himself nearly as much as everyone else. Tall and lean he stood at the balcony, surveying the crowd below. It was a gathering of a certain kind of people; every single one of them balanced just the right amount of elegance, class, wealth, manners and, of course, complete and utter bullshit-ness. His mother just faked a laugh at one of her supposedly 'friends', and his father flirted shamelessly with one of the waitresses. Draco Malfoy tossed his head to the side, keeping the strands of silver blond hair that hung loosely into his face, out of his line of vision. His steel grey eyes fixated on the crystal glass in his hand, containing 70 years old, rare firewhisky. His 5th that evening.

One of the houseelves came silently up from behind and couched delicately, making sure he was noticed by his master.

"Yes?" Draco asked in a monotone manner, boredom dripping from each syllable.

"Your father would like you to socialize a little more, your behaviour isn't acceptable for an event like this; it's not decent of you, avoiding the guests. '_You are to socialize with the most important friends_,' Mr. Malfoy says," The small creature squeaked quietly. It did not look up, afraid to upset his master. Draco scoffed. He understood perfectly well what his father's demand translated to. _Do what you do best; show off._

He ran a hand through his mess of silver hair. "Like he could ever teach me anything about decency," Draco sighed impatiently, "Well, whatever father demands," he continued with a sarcastic salute and downed the rest of his drink in one swift motion, drying his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards. He put the glass down at the reeling and swept through the doors that lead into the house. He paused and turned to the houseelf before he continued down the hall.

"Bring me a refill of that," he said, pointing at the empty glass, "I'll be out in the gardens, mingling with the ladies," He winked, though half-hearted, and left. He strolled through the empty halls of the house, down the main stairs and out, into the festively decorated gardens. The sun had set and the fairy lights in the trees shone in the glum twilight.

The celebrated event of the night was a yearly tradition in the Malfoy family; "Fading Summer Party" was a chance for his parents to climb a bit higher on the social ladder (if that was even possible). Not that it was really necessary, far from it, but they really enjoyed showing off their wealth. Especially his father. But then again, so did every Malfoy, even Draco; bragging about their gold, their status as one of the oldest pureblood families and, of course, their beauty. But lately Draco had found it exceedingly dull, having to be all charming smiles and polite inquiries; the admiring son of a bastard father. Wasted time.

Draco searched the crowd with narrowed eyes; men, all dressed in black dress robes, and women, dressed in their most recently purchased evening gowns, all of them trying their hardest to impress. It made him exhausted, the constant competing, but he didn't mind viewing the beauty of the opposite sex as it was handed to him on a silver-plate like this (though he would enjoy it much more if they _didn't_ have those gowns on).

Finally, he spotted the only person who weren't just as full of it as the rest of them. Blaise Zabini was leaning nonchalantly against one of the buffet tables. He was looking his impeccable self with his neat black suit and his ebony hair carefully combed to the side, like the real gentleman he was, that prat.

Draco started making his way towards him, but was repeatedly cut off by eager and annoying guests, mostly women. He faked his most endearing smile, just as his mother taught him so many years ago, and slithered away, out of their grasp.

"Hey," Blaise said as he noticed Draco approaching. "You had a nice summer?" He asked, looking his usual lazily carefree self. Asshole.

"Yeah, _great_," Draco huffed in reply as he dumped down on a chair. "You know how I love spending quality time with my dear father, locked in a tiny castle in France, while he tries to make me a mini-him," He spat sarcastically and grabbed the refilled glass of firewhisky that was handed to him by a waiter.

Blaise eyed the glass of golden liquor in his hand with undisguised scepticism. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What?" He snapped impatiently, raising his eyebrows.

"I think you've had enough of that shit," Blaise replied simply.

"Do not call it shit, it's the finest firewhisky money can buy you," Draco sipped at the drink. "Well, I suppose you can't buy stuff this old anymore," Another sip, "I'm not drunk."

"I know you're not, but you should have been, how long ago? How many glasses have you actually drunk by now?" He mused, his expression transforming into a frown of distaste.

Draco downed this glass as well, "This was my 6th, _mum_."

"Exactly my point," Blaise concluded. "Any other seventeen year old fucker would be down at the ground by now, drooling, rolling around in the grass, singing children songs in a very bad Scottish accent and making a complete fool of himself, let alone his parents."

"Yeah, thanks' mate, for the detailed description of being shitfaced, but I'm not _any_ seventeen year old fucker. I am _the_ seventeen year old fucker," He said, smirking smugly at his friend, "And I do not make a fool of myself. Ever." He shrugged. "You should know,"

"Not even when Potter is beating that sorry ass of yours in Quidditch?" Blaise retorted with a smirk of his own.

"Don't fucking bring Scarface into this, I'd like to keep this last fragment of my vacation free from any boy-who-couldn't -fucking-die bullshit. I have to see his messed up face soon enough anyway," A moment of silence passed as they both took a break from their discussion to check out the graceful women mingling in front of them.

"Or when Granger punches you in the face," Blaise went on when the moment passed, pretending not to notice the irritation leeching from the very pores of his best mate.

"Hey, that was _one _time! And she's a girl! What was I supposed to do? Hit her back? You know I don't hit girls, I would never sink that low!" Draco defended himself furiously. You're hit by a girl one bloody time and no one lets you forget it.

"Or, you remember that time when that Weasley girl bat bogey hexed you? That was totally priceless!" Blaise exclaimed, now unable to keep a straight face as it broke into a huge grin at the memory. He caught the look on Draco's face, a look that loud and clear told him to shut up, or he would suffer some pretty nasty consequences and he quieted down a bit. Blaise wasn't really afraid of Draco, never had been, but he knew him well enough to know that if Draco truly wanted to, he wouldn't hesitate to use illegal curses. He also knew that Draco was _slightly_ short tempered, especially after a certain amount of booze, however unaffected he claimed to be. It wasn't really too great an idea to pull the strings of his already tense mood at an event like this. Although Draco's hot temper was a good laugh and his infuriation highly entertaining, it was not worth making a public scene out of. It could wait 'til they got back to Hogwarts. Draco always relaxed more, once away from his father and the manor.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, Draco glaring with narrow eyes at whoever walked past them, completely giving f* about his behaviour at this point, while Blaise tried to smile apologizing at the same people as they passed by him.

"And by the way, I'd like to have my share of liquor before I leave. Hogwarts isn't exactly known to serve students firewhisky, " Draco barked grumpily after a while, as he sipped at yet another glass of Ogden's Finest (he couldn't really remember where he got the last one from). "Not of this quality anyway," He studied the golden liquid solemnly.

"I wonder why," Blaise drawled back. Silence fell over the two of them again and Blaise sighed impatiently.

"Well, if you're just gonna sit here all night, brooding, I think I'll go do something a little more exhilarating with my time. I should probably warn you though; Pansy's here, and I think she's looking for you," Draco groaned. Since he'd shagged her the previous year Pansy wouldn't leave him alone for a split second if she had it her way. Then again, if she had it her way, they probably would have been married by October. Draco shuddered involuntarily at the thought. "So if I were you, I wouldn't sick to one place all night; she'll probably find you eventually,"

"Thanks', I'll keep that in mind," Draco said glumly before rising to his feet and strolling off. "I'll see you around," he called over his shoulder. Pansy wasn't really that bad a shag; she was okay. She was, however, such a pain in the ass afterwards that the pleasure he achieved wasn't even worth it.

Calm music filled the air between the chatter and laughter, some very hip jazz-band his mother had booked for the occasion; "Thestral's cry" or something. It didn't really sound anything like the shrill sound of crying Thestrals to him.

As he once again made his way through the crowd, he noticed a slender woman with olive skin dressed in a deep red gown that gently hugged her body in a very flattering, graceful way. Her hair flowed down her back, raven black, just like her sons'. He grinned, made his way over to her, cleared his throat and took her hand in his, kissing it softly.

"Would you be so kind to let me have this dance, Mrs. Zabini?" He asked smoothly, looking into her eyes with overpowering intensity.

"Well, if you insist. It's always pleasant to dance with you, you're such a lovely dancer," She answered seductively, arching an eyebrow. Man, the woman really knew how to flirt. Draco led her to the dance floor, easily pulling her into position, one of his hands resting on the small of her back, the other holding her slight hand cradled in his own much bigger one.

"So, how is your evening so far, Mrs. Zabini?"

"Now, now Draco, how many times do I have to tell you to address me by my first name? You know how I feel about the _Mrs. Zabini _nonsense. It makes me sound so _old_." She hissed the last word out like it was cursed; something dirty and inappropriate.

"Well, how would that be appropriate when I'm associating with your son?"

"How is he by the way? I saw the two of you talking."

"Rather inconveniently content and annoyingly cheerful, as usual,"

"Well, I think I know where he got those qualities from," She said, winking at him.

"You would know,"

"I would. What were the two of you talking about?"

"My father, liquor, girls, the usual rubbish,"

"Your father..."

"What about him?" His voice stiffened.

"He does look just a little too comfortable in the company of that brunette waitress," She glanced briefly over her shoulder, in their direction.

"Tell me about it," He gritted his teeth.

"He really isn't very subtle about it, is he?"

"Naturally, everyone has noticed by now," Draco said bitterly. "But pointing it out would make it real, so no one ever does. We live in a perfected illusion built on vain cowardice and fucked up lies,"

"Ah, a, a, language Draco! That's not very gentleman like of you,"

"I beg your pardon, _Fair Lady Zabini_, please excuse my lack of manners," He apologized with mocking regret filling his voice and smirked down at her. He loved their little game.

"I'll let it pass this once."

"You are gracious as well as fair, milady,"

"I am. Now, in terms of right courtesy I should ask you how your evening has been,"

"Absolutely terrible, bloody fucking boring and a complete waste of time, since you decided to ask."

"I'm a waste of time, am I?" She teased.

"No. You're the exception," He grinned down at her.

"And what could I do to make your evening a little less _waste of time, _as you put it?"

He leaned in then, so that his hair brushed her cheek and the heavy, exotic aroma of her body entranced him. "It's not a question about what you _could_ do, but what you _would_ do. Because I know a way you could definitely make this an evening worth wasting time on... " He whispered in her ear, his lower lip barely gracing her jaw line as he did.

She pulled him closer still, whispering back. "That's too bad. I guess you'll just have to stay miserable then," She kissed his cheek, right beside his mouth and slipped gracefully out of his embrace, leaving him standing alone in the centre of the dance floor.

Fuck, she knew how to play him too well. Such a tease. '_I'll get you though. One day you'll lay in my bed, screaming with pleasure, begging me for release.' _He thought to himself as he went off. Too bad she was Blaise's mother. He would be enraged if he ever found out.

"You know, that just makes me sick." A voice drawled from behind. Draco turned, rolling his eyes. _'Speak of the devil'_.

"What?" He shrugged upon meeting the disgusted grimace Blaise's features were portraying.

"My _mother_ and my _best friend,_"

"We were _dancing_. And don't BFF me. It won't work,"

"That was not civil dancing. There was some serious eye-fucking going on there, let alone some quite generous groping if my eyesight ever served me right. I'm only glad my mother has the strength to resist you,"

"I'm not,"

"Shut up!"

"You can't deny that she is positively hot?"

"Stop." His face was getting stonier by the second.

"Come on, all the men here notice how perfectly shaped her butt is…"

"I said; Shut up!" Blaise gritted out between his teeth.

"Oh, the things I'd like to do with her," Draco smirked.

"You asked for it." Blaise returned the smirk with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"What?" He narrowed his suspiciously.

"PANSY!"

"NO!"

"He's over here!"

"Fuck. You." Draco spat out the two syllables with as much venom as he could possibly muster. Blaise just continued to smirk with satisfaction written all over his face.

"That should teach you a lesson," He said patting Draco's shoulder, "I'm off. Maybe I'll ask Narcissa for a dance, you know how she adores me," He winked, "but you have fun," And then he strolled off, like he was some kind of somebody. Draco groaned. There was no point in running off now; Pansy had already spotted him. He cursed Blaise to death in his head, but on the other hand; he couldn't very well deny he hadn't practically asked for it.

"Draky, dear! Where have you been?" Her high-pitched voice gave him chills, and not the good kind.

"Around," He mumbled offhandedly. He turned towards her as she came skipping over to him in a pink cocktail dress. Her short hair bounced slightly around her head with each step.

"But I've been looking all over for you!" She whined, putting her arms around his neck. "You weren't trying to avoid me, were you?" She asked in fake disapproval, pouting her lips ridiculously, obviously trying her best to be seductive. "You naughty," She whispered.

"No. I was talking to Blaise," He offered.

"But _I_ don't want to _talk_..."

"Not now Pansy,"

"Why not? Don't you want me?" She whined. He was bloody sick of her constant whining.

"No."

"What?"

"I have to go... sort some stuff out," He shrugged her off, leaving her dissatisfied and confused. _What did he care?_ If that easy slut could just stop bothering him for the sake of Merlin. He hurriedly evacuated the crowded dance floor, heading in the direction of the gardens. He was looking for the one person he could actually bare spending time with.

He found her alone by the fountain, sipping martinis. Draco went over to his mother, linking her arm with his. She wore a simple, silver silk gown with one bare shoulder and her hair pulled back into a sleek knot in the neck. She looked beautiful, but the smile that graced her lips was not one of joy.

"How's my dear son doing?" He could easily detect the traces of sadness in her voice, though he knew she tried to sound nonchalant.

"Pansy's annoying the hell out of me."

"Be nice to her. Her mother is a dear friend," She told him sternly, straightening his tie and patting him lightly on the chest.

"Nice. Right. I don't do nice."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Except to you, that is, but come on mum, you're my mother; it doesn't count," A beautiful albino peacock made its way through the gardens behind them. None of them took any notice of the majestic bird however; they were well accustomed to them, just like expensive furniture or rare paintings; pretty things to impress others with.

"If you say so,"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Her smile was tight, "Don't worry honey,"

"It's dad." She didn't answer, but proceeded to stare stiffly straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. "He's a bastard. Don't be sad. You're supposed to be comforting me," He couldn't help but whine childishly. Narcissa laughed and hugged his arm tighter.

"Can I be excused from this ridiculous excuse for a party? I'm really bored," She searched his face for a moment, and then nodded.

"You go," She pushed him away. He smiled in relief and kissed her cheek before leaving.

Draco made his way back to the mansion, but avoided getting to close to the lively festivities still going on. By now, all he really wanted was a good night sleep, undisturbed in his own quarters.

On his way, he caught a glimpse of Blaise, dancing with a pretty blonde, obviously flirting with her, making her blush like her life depended on it. At the bar, the other Zabini was now working her charm on an elderly gentleman, who Draco happened to know was a newly divorced, important ministry employee. And sure enough, as Ms. Zabini trailed her fingertips lightly over his chest he looked spellbound. Draco couldn't help but smile; his favourite Zabinis certainly lived up to their reputation as shameless flirts. Both of them.

As he got into the manor and was about to flee up the stairs before anyone caught him and started asking more annoying questions, the door to one of the households many spare bedrooms opened and the brunette waitress ran out, only half dressed, clutching her blouse to her chest. She blushed and looked down as she noticed him watching, before brushing past him and escaping down the hallway. Draco stopped short and only moments after, his father exited from the same room, closing the door behind him as he buttoned his shirt. Anger flared in Draco's chest. His father had always been a heartless dick, but hurting his mother so badly made him furious. Especially since he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as his father got closer; desperately trying to hold back the words he wanted to scream at him, the damage he wanted to inflict on him.

Lucius stopped in his track for a moment when he noticed his son.

"Straighten up son, you look like shit," He said arrogantly as he pushed past him, into the night. Draco concentrated on controlling the rage building on his insides. It would not look good if the Malfoy son hit his father in the presence of the high class Slytherin society of wealth. He clutched his left forearm, willing away the burning pain that just shot through it as hatred coursed through his mind.

Draco turned without thinking, making his way back to the party. Sleep wouldn't do it now; he desperately needed a distraction, even if it was no better than Pansy Parkinson. He spotted her chatting with Goyle and got over there in a couple of long strides.

"Pansy."

"What?" She asked, worship dripping from her voice, like she had already forgotten how he had just rejected her, telling her he didn't want her. She really was pitiable.

"Come with me. _Now_." It was a demand, not a question. _Like she would refuse, _he snorted to himself. Her face lit up like a fucking kid on Christmas morning. He just guided her silently into his room, hastily closing the door shut and pushing her onto the bed. He really needed this.

He tore her panties off and she giggled like a squealing, little girl. "Oh, Draco,"

He stopped mid-motion, looking icily down at her. "No talking." He growled, dead serious. He wouldn't be able to stand her whiny voice throughout the act.

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**So, what did you think? Plz let me know, appreciate comments a lot! I know this was a little angsty maybe, especially in the end, but I just wanted you to get an idea of why Draco tends to get a bit testy, you could say. And I'm sorry there was no Ginny, but there'll be lots of her in the next chapter. Anyway, I've already written the entire second chapter, I can even promise you there'll be some Draco/Ginny interaction, so I'll publish it very soon! **


	2. Chapter 2

**So, Chapter 2 for you! Won't say too much about it I think. Enjoy **

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**Chapter 2: Bat Bogeys and Seven Sodding Gits**

"Bloody-fucking-hell!" Every resident of the Weasley household, more frequently known as the Burrow, knew this particular sound to mean _one_ thing: Ginny Weasley was on a death mission.

For one lingering moment the youngest Weasley child stared in horrification at her reflection in the mirror rather awkwardly positioned above her nightstand. Then, as realization hit her, she glanced towards the roof of her small bedroom. A dangerous rage was building up inside her as she grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, pulled it violently over her head and slammed the door to the hallway open. She stumped up the stairs to the second floor, were the twins' room was located. Without bothering to knock, she stormed in, only to discover that the room was empty and that the subjects of her fury had already gone downstairs for breakfast. On her way out of the room she kicked 'something' (probably a new artefact under development for the Wizarding Wheezes) out of her way just for the hell of it, sending it flying straight through a window, pieces of glass shattering all over the floor. She would probably regret it later, but for the moment, all that occupied her mind was ways to murder Fred and George in the most painful, humiliating way. She could not believe they would do this to her, and on the very day she was going back to school!

Ginny raced down the stairs in a matter of seconds and barged into the crowded kitchen, were all conversation died the moment she entered, like someone had put a silencing charm on the entire bunch of them. Ginny ignored it, concentrating her attention on glaring holes in the heads of the two identical redheaded bastards, seated at the kitchen table.

"You-" she began, her voice dangerous, but was immediately interrupted.

"That-" Fred pointed at Ginny's head, "- was not me."

"Or me!" George piped in. "In fact, I'd like to declare myself innocent during the process of this little makeover," Ginny was about to argue, but was once again cut off before she got the chance to get anything remotely similar to a sentence out.

"Though I must say, Ginnykins," He knew she hated it when he called her by that nickname, given her by her mother at the age of two, "that despite the fact that I really didn't picture you as the punk kind of gal, it looks pretty good," Fred offered with a nod, mock approval crossing his face, though it mostly looked like he was trying his best not to burst out in fits of uncontrollable giggles. '_Oh, I'll teach him to laugh,' _Ginny thought, by now seeing red.

"Yeah," George agreed, "Did you get the idea from Tonks?" He was smiling wickedly, not able to contain his obvious glee. "But, no offence, I think maybe turquoise would have suited you even better," he winked at her.

"My. Hair." Ginny grabbed fits of her long, tangled hair with both hands, her knuckles whitening, she was gripping it so tightly, "Is. Green!" She spat out each word through gritted teeth.

"We can see that." Fred nodded.

"Yep, no need to state the obvious, Gin, we're not blind you know," George chimed in, giving a sort of shrug. She couldn't believe the nerve they had. Didn't they know she was going to hex them to the fiery pits of hell for this? Stupid bloody prats.

"Why. The. Bloody. Fucking. Hell. Is. My. Fucking. Hair. Fucking. Green?" She asked, still fighting to contain her fury, while doing her best to ignore her brothers' infuriating comments.

"Well, I think a more interesting question is why you are down here, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and knickers," Fred stated smartly, looking pointedly at her bare legs. "And if you say 'fuck' one more time I'll give you a hug," He continued in an affectionate voice, as he batted his eyelashes in the most ridiculous way.

"Yeah, I really think you forgot to put trousers on Gin," George half whispered, like it all was a bit of an embarrassing situation for her.

"Would I be down here now if I really cared that I'm only wearing knickers? Hm? No, so shut the fuck up and fix this mess before I bloody hex you!" Ginny said in a nastily sweet voice, tugging more furiously still at some strands of bright, emerald coloured hair, just to get her point across. She looked back and forth between the two of them, waiting for one of them to break. Mr. Weasley had lowered the newspaper sometime during the argument and was staring in puzzlement at his daughters' hair.

"Ginny, love, your hair-," He stuttered in astonishment.

"Yes Dad! My hair is green! What do you think I'm raving about?!" She shouted, her boiling temper getting the best of her, before whirling back at her siblings. "Do you really _think_ I won't hex you?" she asked them, "because then you're both terribly deluded."

"Well, as you don't have a wand at hand," George pointed out, "I'd say your chances at performing any kind of functioning hex would be pretty slim," He looked properly smug about his discovery. Ass-twat.

Just then, a groggy looking Ron came slumping into the kitchen and Ginny leaped at the opportunity, snapping his wand right out of the back-pocket of his jeans.

"Well, I do now!" she exclaimed in triumph.

"Hey, give- Whoa, what the bloody hell did you do to your hair?! And why aren't you wearing pants?" Ron ranted in reaction to the striking new colour of his sister's hair and the lack of clothing covering the lower part of her body.

"Are you mental?! Do you think I deliberately did this to my own hair?!" Ginny cried in infidel, whirling at him instead. "And I was not wearing pants because I couldn't be bothered to find some as I was on my way to murder that pair of baboons!" She pointed Ron's wand at the twins with such vigour that a sprout of red sparks shot out, blasting a hole in the picture of The Minister of Magic on the cover of Mr. Weasley's newspaper.

"Calm down there Gin," Charlie said. He was home from Romania for the summer vacation and had regarded the madness displaying in the kitchen in silence, until now.

"Oh, yeah," Ginny was now fed up with the whole lot of them. Why would no one help her get her hair back to normal? "You know what Charlie? You can tell me to 'calm down' when someone turns your hair green!"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" Everyone's heads turned towards the doorway leading out to the garden were a grim Mrs. Weasley stood, hands on her hips, a basket stuffed to the brim with freshly cleaned laundry under one arm and looking her most terrifying. "Why are you yelling like this? Scared all the hens to death, you did! And why aren't you properly dressed, you know we have to leave in fifteen minutes if you want to catch the train," She lectured her daughter sternly as she put the basket down beside the sink. "And," she frowned disapprovingly, "What on earth have you done to your hair?"

"It wasn't _me_!" Ginny cried, now so frustrated by the situation she badly wanted to punch something. Or rather; _someone._

"Oh, don't be embarrassed Gin," George said.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to experiment a bit, aye?" Fred sniggered, offering the mischievous grin that became the last straw. Ginny whirled around and before anyone had time to lift even a finger to defend themselves, she cast her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex. The next moment, a swarm of grotesque, bat-like creatures were attacking the twins, accompanied by a whole lot of wailing and one very satisfied Ginny Weasley.

* * *

"You didn't need to get all fired up about it, did you?" George grumbled as he scratched his chin where one of the bats had gotten him. "It was just a stupid joke,"

"Just a stupid joke, was it? The two of you should be grateful I didn't have my own wand, as the curse would have had considerable greater impact if that was the case," Ginny shot back as she and the rest of the family hurried down the platform. The huge clock on the far wall showed that it was only three minutes to the train left. Ginny's hex had made quite a mess and gotten them all severely behind schedule.

"Yeah, don't remind me," Fred shuddered at the thought, bringing back a memory when that had indeed been the case. The twins and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come to bid her, Ron and Harry, who had been fortunate enough to have slept through the Bat-Boogey incident, farewell. Charlie stayed home claiming he'd witnessed enough drama before noon as it was.

Ginny glanced around the platform, vaguely searching for familiar faces, but she couldn't make out anything but blurry silhouettes through the heavy foam from the train and she reckoned the majority of the students had already boarded the Hogwarts express anyway. Only one figure stood out from the fog. A person dressed in bright pink from top till toe, and Ginny knew immediately who it had to be. Sure enough, just a couple of seconds later the girl came closer and Pansy Parkinson's high-pitched voice pierced through the loud chatter of countless goodbyes.

"Can you believe the nerve of that insufferable bitch?" She just asked one of her Slytherin 'friends', who Ginny liked to address as 'minions', a much more suitable expression in her opinion. "She actually implied she had anything _going on_ with Draco! She very well knows me and Draco has promised ourselves to each other, ages ago!" She spat, like it was Daphne Greengrass or Millicent Bulstrode fault some Ravenclaw girl had in some way offended Pansy, most likely by being the subject of Malfoy's sexual desires at the moment.

Ginny snorted out a laugh. Draco Malfoy may yet be an arrogant bastard, but she found it highly unlikely he would ever 'promise' himself to Pansy Parkinson, the way he was sleeping around. Now that she thought about it, it was actually strange Pansy didn't know about Draco's habits of shagging a different girl every week. She would have bet her broom that every living (or dead for that matter) creature in the castle knew.

"Hey, watch out Millicent! I don't want mud on my suitcase!" Pansy suddenly snapped. How she ever managed to make any friends at all was beyond Ginny's comprehension.

She turned back to her family as Mrs. Weasley fussed about, "Come on you lot, on the train with you!" She hugged Ron and practically squeezed Harry before she reached out and grabbed hold of Ginny's shoulders, bringing her in for a tight embrace. Molly Weasley had always been particularly worried for her daughter. She wasn't less fond of her sons, but Ginny was the only girl and the youngest and after the horrible events during her first year at Hogwarts, it always made her more than a bit anxious to send Ginny off. In addition, the girl had inherited some of the nerve wrecking ability for getting into trouble, from Fred and George.

"Ok, Mom, you can let go now," Ginny muttered gently after a while. They all said their goodbyes before the three of them was ushered onto the train. On her way up the steps behind Ron and Harry, Ginny cautiously stroked her hair. Before they left the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had succeeded, with some help from a pair of sulky, recently violated sons, to get the colour almost back to normal. However, it was still a tad bit more magenta than her usual fiery red. She wondered if anyone would notice.

"Don't worry," Fred's voice said from behind her. "It'll be back to normal in no time."

"Well, it better," She looked darkly at him, but it was half-hearted. Despite the level her temper could reach, it was never long termed. "Or I'll find some even nastier spell to accomplish by Christmas break."

George grinned, "We'll owl you about the revenge we have in store for you," he retorted cheerfully, like it was something to look forward to.

"Do some damage, will you?" Fred asked anxiously. "I worry sometimes, that when we left, the era of mischief went with us," He actually looked a bit sad.

"I'll do my best," Ginny replied, with a mischievous grin of her own and a salute, before jumping on the train as the piercing cry of the train sounded, signalising its departure.

* * *

Ginny was towing her suitcase (which was quite heavy, despite the fact that she'd had to limit the content severely to get room for all of her Quidditch gear) down the narrow corridor of the train, searching for a compartment where _someone_ she knew had taken residence. Somewhere along her journey she bumped into Dean Thomas, her former boyfriend, which turned out to be a rather awkward encounter. When Dean had finally finished ogling her cleavage, rambling enthusiastically about nothing in particular and disappeared into a compartment occupied mainly by a bunch of other seventh year males, such as Finnegan, Goldstein and Michael Corner (another ex) she was free to continue her lookout. She passed one compartment filled with seventh year Slytherins (though she noticed the silver haired ferret was absent); one where a party of squealing third graders were crowded together, fighting to get a peek at the latest edition of 'Witch Weekly'; one where some Ravenclaws were having a heated discussion on some subject she couldn't quite make out; and one where a group of assorted uncertain first years nervously tried to make friends. Ginny watched them with a sympathetic smile, remembering the mix of anticipation and anxiety that coursed through her the day she was attending Hogwarts for the first time.

She thought about all the worries and all the things she had looked forwards to; _'What house am I going to be selected into?', 'What if they don't put me in Gryffindor?', 'Will I make any friends?', 'Am I going to do well in class?', 'I wonder what the castle must be like,', 'Am I going to get lost?', 'Will everyone think I'm a dork?'_ and the question that had occupied her most at that point in her life; _'Will Harry Potter ever like me?'_. Ginny scoffed at the thought, the crush she'd had on the infamous 'Boy-Who-Lived' for almost four years seemed so immature and pointless when she looked back at it in retrospective. True, he had saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, but before that she had barely even known him. Fortunately, she had pulled herself together in her third year when she realized Harry was pining after Cho Chang, and gone out with Michael Corner instead. It all seemed a million years ago now; another life entirely and definitely another Ginny.

It was these memories that occupied her mind when she entered another part of the train and someone ran into her, causing her to drop her broom and lose her grip on her suitcase. It sprung open as it slammed forcefully into the carpeted floor of the train, leaving books scattered in every direction.

"Bloody fuck," She muttered as she dropped to her knees, collecting the books that had escaped her suitcase. She didn't even bother to take a look at the person who'd run her over. It wasn't until a pair of very expensive looking black dragon leather shoes came into her line of vision and the owner of said shoes' pale hand reached down and picked up her broom, that she became aware of who she'd had the misfortune to stumble across. She glanced up and was met by the annoyingly handsome face of none other than the Slytherin prince himself.

"Well, well," Draco Malfoy drawled, "Look who can't help falling at my feet whenever I appear," He leered down at her, trademark smirk in place. Ginny rose hurriedly, forgetting the books still lying at her feet, but was still about eight inches short on the tall Slytherin boy.

"Give me back my broom Malfoy," She said, furrowing her eyebrows in annoyance. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Weren't Harry, Ron and Hermione, not to mention Neville, supposed to be his favourite targets?

"You call this a broom?" He mocked in a snarl, regarding her Comet 290 with a sceptical look while sizing it in his hands like he was trying to decide exactly what to call it.

"Well, it's just fine beating you at Quidditch with, so I can't really see what's wrong with it," She shot back, sending Zabini, who was lurking quietly behind Malfoy, a narrow eyed look when he gave an appreciative chuckle at her snappy retort.

"And I thought the only reason you made the cut was because your boyfriend's the team captain," Malfoy retorted equally quick, looking smug.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" her hands were in tight fists, her temper flaring. He had just insulted her Quidditch skills and her dignity in one sentence, and it didn't exactly help the situation that she was already in a stroppy mood after the incidents earlier that day.

"Or is it more of a physical relationship only?" He asked, his eyes dancing with cruel glee, "A 'shag and you won't get kicked off the team' kind of agreement maybe?"

"I'm not shagging Harry you incompetent imbecile!" Ginny spat hatefully and tore the broom out of his grasp. He raised his eyebrows.

"Touchy subject Weasel? Did wonderboy reject you?" She laughed spitefully at his remark, mostly because she couldn't come up with a good retort.

"Shouldn't you be on your way back to Parkinson?" She finally countered, "Congratulation by the way, you must be thrilled," she smiled sweetly.

"What are you on about Weasel?" Malfoy snarled.

"Oh, I just happened to overhear her gushing about how the two of you have promised yourselves to each other," She watched with satisfaction as her words seemed to put him on edge. "That's so adorable I might just throw up. What's next? An engagement?"

"Parkinson is just an easy fuck, much like you actually. If her deluded imagination made her think there's something more between us, then that's her funeral." Though he seemed collected as he replied, she sensed the question had annoyed him a lot more than he let on.

"How would you know if I'm an easy fuck, ferret?"

"Oh, word gets around you know," He looked thoroughly pleased now. "I mean come on, Corner, Thomas, Potter, Jordan, Entwhistle _and_ Gregory. It's no short list that's for sure,"

"I have never shagged Harry for crying out loud!"

"Whatever you say Weasel,"

"You know what? I have better things to do than chatting with someone with your lack of brain capacity all day," She gritted out between her teeth and gripped her broomstick firmly with both hands.

"Don't fool yourself Weasel, chatting with me is likely to be the peak of this day in your miserable little life," He smirked and walked off. As Zabini moved past her after Malfoy, he winked down at her. Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, '_What was _his _deal?_ 'She fumed as she irately scooped up her belongings.

"And by the way," Draco turned, "What's wrong with your hair?" he asked with a pointed glance at her head, before he left her clutching her red locks in mortification.

* * *

"Well, you'll probably hex me for saying this," Blaise began when the Weasley girl was out of hearing range, "But that girl looks better than most of the girls in our grade even,"

Draco whirled on his friend, "You must be joking?" he asked, incredulous at what his fried was saying. "She's a bloodtraitor and a Weasley for Marlins' sake!"

"It doesn't change the fact that she's pretty dammed gorgeous," Blaise shrugged.

Draco growled. He couldn't believe Blaise would fell to such low standards as to think something like that, much less admitting it out loud. "Well, if you want to hit that hideous freckled pumpkin head; then be my guest," He grumbled.

"Since you obviously won't, maybe I'll give it a try," He looked deep in thought as he spoke, probably plotting away in his head about how to approach the girl, sly fucker that he was. What annoyed Draco the most, however, was that he had realized the exact same thing as Blaise. The Weasley girl _was _actually looking more than reasonably shaggable. But she was still a Weasley and directly related to the most ridiculous excuse for a wizard he'd ever know, Ron the Weasel, which naturally made her untouchable.

"Typical of Pansy to say something like that," Blaise continued thoughtfully after a while. "What are you going to _do_ about her?"

"Shut her up."

"How?" Blaise asked suspiciously.

"Never mind _how_, the point is that she stops telling everyone we're engaged or whatever, isn't it?"

"I never know with you," Blaise muttered disapprovingly under his breath as they entered their compartment together.

* * *

After another ten minutes or so, Ginny had finally managed, not without cursing Malfoy's stupid face a dozen times at least, to hurl all her belongings into the compartment occupied by Ron, Harry and Hermione. It had been a bit uncomfortable at first, as she had obviously interrupted one of their 'secret' conversations; all three of them had gone quite as the grave when she entered.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Ron had asked as Ginny slumped down beside Harry. She was still quite sour after the encounter with Malfoy.

"Don't mind my knickers Ron," She had replied with a scowl, "But Malfoy's a royal twat, that's for sure," Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about Malfoy being _'a sodding pile of uselessness,' _before vanishing behind a copy of _"Prefects Who Gained Power"._ Harry patted her sympathetically on her shoulder while Ron tried to gain Hermione's attention unsuccessfully. In the end he gave up and was forced to sullenly acknowledge that Hermione preferred a book on dull Prefect graduates through the ages, to him.

After a while, they were joined by Neville and Luna and the conversation turned into easy chatter about Quidditch, how everyone had spent their vacation and how Draco Malfoy should just do the population of Hogwarts a favour and throw himself off the Astronomy-tower.

Ginny was laughing her head off at the story about Neville's unfortunate flying trip over the lake beside a magical village in southern France when something Malfoy had said swam into mind; '_And I thought the only reason you made the cut was because your boyfriend's the team captain,'_ her laugh died abruptly and she glanced worriedly over at Harry.

"What's the matter Ginny? Did the nargles eat your thoughts?" Luna asked, an expression of recognition and concern on her face.

"No, sorry," Ginny shook off the uneasy feeling still lingering in her mind after Malfoy's comment. "My mind is just sort of preoccupied, you know,"

"I'm quite sure it was a nargle, though," Luna said dreamily, looking up at the air above their heads.

"Sure, Luna," Ginny smiled and shook her head.

The rest of the journey was rather uneventful, the most exciting part being when Crookshanks decided to attack an unsuspecting chocolate-frog on the run to freedom. Soon they could glimpse the thousand lights of the castle in the distance, and the unspoken promises of a hot meal and a soft bed made them hurry to gather their belongings as quickly as possible when they neared Hogsmeade Station. Ginny joined Luna, Neville and Colin Creevey in one of the not so horseless carriages, and they rattled through the darkness towards the school.

* * *

**And that was the second chapter, I hope you weren't disappointed and that you enjoyed Ginny**

**Thank's to everyone who've faved, commented or followed the story, I really appreciate it! Please take the time to comment this chapter as well, and it may motivate me to update again quickly! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry it's been so long, I haven't kept my promise about frequent updates at all and I feel really bad about that. I hope to update more often from now on, but I'll just how to see when I get time to write. However, I won't abandon the story; it's too fun to write this stuff! **** So don't worry… **

**Well, here you are; your favorite weasel and ferret once again**

* * *

**Chapter 3: ****Quidditch Matters and Filthy Affairs**  


Draco frowned as he subconsciously reduced his caramel pudding to mush. Earlier on that evening, when Dumbledore had announced who had been appointed the position as Head Boy, an audible groan had sounded throughout the hall; Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike seemed equally dissatisfied with the headmaster's choice. The fact that Granger had made it as Head Girl, however, apparently bothered no one. But that wasn't the only reason for Draco's rather foul mood.

Blaise had been glancing in the direction of the Gryffindor table from time to time throughout the entire dinner, and was no doubt checking out the weasel slut. Draco had always known Blaise was less picky than him when choosing bed partners, but he still couldn't quite comprehend the fact that his best friend was actually considering making Ginny-freakin'-Weasley, the unacclaimed Gryffindor Princess and sister of Ron-sodding- weasel, his next conquest. It wasn't a question about her looks, which were decent enough he supposed, but the fact that intimacy with anyone related to the stupidest ginger haired troll ever to cross the threshold of Hogwarts, was basically blasphemy against their pureblood lines.

Before Draco had time to dwell on the matter any longer however, he was distracted from his train of thought by Tracy Davis sliding her foot up his left shin. Tracy was a pretty girl in his year with a reasonable appetite for meaningless sex. She was tall, with curly honey blonde hair and green eyes. Green eyes which at the moment were suggesting very naughty things to happen in his dormitory after the feast. For the moment, he ignored her; he wasn't really in the mood.

Blaise had finally managed to tear his attention away from the Gryffindor table and was chatting with Theodor Nott about replacements for the Quidditch team. Draco groaned silently; _another_ bloody thing he'd have to sort out. He began to realize that being appointed both the Head Boy position and the situation as the new Quidditch Captain would be less fun and a lot more work than he'd envisioned.

"We can't possibly keep Goyle on the team, he's so bad he doesn't even bother to consider if he's aiming a bludger at one of his own team-mates!" Theo was saying in a lowered voice, but Draco didn't pay attention. He'd feebly glanced over towards the Gryffindors himself, and noticed the Weasley girl surrounded by The Ginger Oaf, miss Mudblood, Longbottom, Potty-face and a couple of girls he assumed to be in her own year. Potter was seated right next to her and was eying her most appreciatively; Draco had no doubt about what The Chosen One had in mind. But to his surprise, the female weasel ignored the attention he was giving her completely. She even scooted the tiniest bit away when Potty leaned over towards her to say something. _Interesting. _Maybe she had been telling the truth on the train after all.

For some reason the thought of her turning down the Chosen One pleased him. Possibly because Draco rather enjoyed anything related to Potter's misfortune.

Ginny awoke the next morning by the sound of content chatter, scattered giggles and a very annoying ray of morning sun hitting her straight in the face. There was a general bustle about the room; all the 6th year Gryffindor girls were getting ready for their first day back to school, and Ginny was, as per usual, the one who'd overslept. She hastily crawled out of the warm comfortable softness of her four poster bed.

"Late again, are we, Gin?" Sophie asked with a chuckle, as she sat down on her own bed, looking ridiculously put together. "I thought you were going to change your ways this year. What was it that you said last night? That you'd be up before everyone today, freshly showered after your morning flight and ready for breakfast before any of us had even managed to roll ourselves out of bed?"

"Oh, shut it, will you?" Ginny grumbled. One thing was certain; she'd have no time to get a shower now. Sophie just smiled, but Serena sent her an indulgent look across the room. God, Ginny couldn't stand Serena, and she suspected the feeling was mutual. Not that she cared. Not _one_ bit in fact. She'd just have to steer clear of the wretched girl and everything would be just fine. Serena had always disliked Ginny, she really couldn't remember if there was a legit reason for her distaste, but Serena had been a nasty bitch since the day they were both sorted into Gryffindor. _How_ Serena had managed to end up in Gryffindor in the first place was another mystery unsolved. Of course, as an 11 year old, Ginny's self-esteem had been spectacularly low which had made her an easy target with no counter fire to muster up. The first two years at Hogwarts had given Serena a big advantage in their "relationship". However strong-minded or confident Ginny had become; she'd always be a weak little girl in Serena's eyes.

Serena flipped her long platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and left the dormitory.

"Good riddance," Ginny muttered and staggered into the bathroom. All the other girls were long gone by the time she had thrown on her uniform and gathered her books.

On the way down to breakfast, Ginny encountered Nearly Headless Nick, Peeves (she barely dodged the dungbomb as it soared towards her head), a group of skittish first year Hufflepuffs who seemed to have lost their way, and Luna Lovegood. They entered the Great Hall together and found it quite full. It seemed everyone was keen on a fresh start and a nice long breakfast before heading off to their first day after the holidays. Luna parted for the Ravenclaws with a smile and a wave and Ginny headed towards Harry, Hermione and Ron, seated in the middle of the Gryffindor table. She dumped down beside Hermione and grabbed for some toast and jam (they were all out of eggs though she noticed Ron had stacked a generous pile on his plate).

"Good morning," Hermione greeted cheerfully, looking up from her edition of _the Daily Prophet_. Harry also glanced over with an appreciative smile. What was with everyone being in such a good mood?!

"'morning," She replied glumly through a mouthful of toast.

"Oh, come on Ginny, cheer up!" Hermione nudged her.

"What for?"

"Your sixth year Ginny! Isn't it exciting? What subjects are you taking again?" She sounded genuinely interested.

"What's so bloody exciting about it?"

"'eave it 'ermione, 'e's always in a crabby mood in 'e 'ornin," Ron shot in through chunks of scrambled egg and crisp bacon, "'u should 'ave 'een 'er yesterday-" Hermione was conveying him with what looked like repulsed scepticism, and Ginny couldn't blame her; Ron's eating habits were more than remotely revolting.

"Shut it, Ron!" She snapped. "No one asked for your opinion,"

"Jeez," He'd managed to swallow the eggs by now, "why are you throwing a hissy fit all of a sudden?"

"I'm sorry," She muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. "I didn't sleep very well, that's all," Ron shrugged, "Care to pass the coffee, Harry?"

Ginny's mood improved considerably during the day, and when the final class of the day wrapped up (Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid), she happily joined up with Neville on her way to dinner. On their way they happened upon Draco Malfoy and his gang of scoundrels, but he only sneered superiorly at her as she scowled menacingly in his direction.

Friday rolled around before Ginny was positively certain her hair was completely back to normal and she celebrated the joyous occasion by wearing it down. The first week had been rather uneventful, except of course, the occasional snide comment from a certain icy-blonde Slytherin. She couldn't help but notice that he did seem to be targeting her more than he usually would. Maybe she should have considered the consequences before getting into that pissing contest on the train. But then again, would she ever let him get away with being a rude jerk? Definitely not.

Ginny was making her way towards the Quidditch pitch. The tryouts for the Gryffindor team were scheduled to begin in an hour and she wanted to get a head start. Harry had taken her aside after breakfast and explained to her that she wouldn't need to try out at all; he would just put her on the team straight away. Ginny had retorted, maybe a tad bit irritably, that she didn't need him babying her, that she was a perfectly capable Quidditch player, and that she of course would try out like the rest of the Gryffindors. She hated that he still treated her like a little girl, even though he certainly didn't look at her like she was anymore. She shook her head before entering the locker rooms; clearing her head and trying to get rid of the frustration. It would do her no good on the pitch, that's for sure.

She was alone in the locker rooms, but still hurried into her Quidditch gear. The pitch was empty and she didn't get any company until Harry joined her half an hour later. He looked rather irate himself as he dragged the chest containing the various balls to the centre of the pitch. Ginny sighed and dived out of the sky towards him.

"Harry," She began when she'd dismounted. She wanted to clear the air between them before any unfair decisions based on her bitchy behaviour was made. He grunted, but didn't look up. She couldn't help rolling her eyes, and was kind of glad he wasn't looking. Boys could be such tossers sometimes.

"About this morning-" she continued, but he interrupted her.

"Yes?" He snapped rudely.

"Oh, come on Harry, at least hear me out," She begged, and after a deep breath he finally met her gaze. She was a bit surprised to discover that he looked slightly hurt. "I'm very flattered that you obviously think I'm good enough to be on the team without putting it to the test, but I just can't stand that you'd give me any special treatment- No! I'm not finished," Harry had opened his mouth and the cross look on his face indicated that he wanted to argue her appeal, "I want to be on the team because I earned my place there, and not for any other reason," She looked straight at him, but she couldn't help recalling Malfoy's crude words about her on the train, "I just want it to be fair, yeah? I don't think there should be any _personal_ reasons or interests involved. And I realize that you were just being nice, and I'm sorry I was such a bitch about it," She finished. Harry held her gaze for a moment, his expression hard. Then he gave a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"I'm sorry too, Gin. I just- I don't know, I just wanted to do something nice for you, and I know you're the best chaser in all of Gryffindor, hell, probably in the entire school," He gestured awkwardly towards her. She smiled.

"Nah, you don't know that," She replied lightly, "Maybe we'll come across three fantastic second graders who're just the most phenomenal chasers you've ever seen? What would you do then?" Harry flashed her a genuine grin.

"Indeed, what would I do?" They both broke out into easy laughter.

"Want to give me a hand with the equipment here Weasley?" He asked and gestured towards the stack of brooms lying by the goal hoops and the chests containing the beater bats and protection gear.

"Sure Captain," She grinned and they set to work.

*  
Two hours later the new team were gathered in the centre of the pitch. Ginny had made it with excellence; Ron had _barely_ made it, as always letting his nerves get the better of him. Demelza Robins and Dean Thomas had made it as the other chasers, and Peakes and Cootie was back as Beaters.

The rest of the contenders were sulkily making their way up towards the castle and the stalls were also emptying. A fair bunch of Gryffindors had gathered to watch the tryouts. Now, only Hermione and Neville were left, making their way down the rows towards them. Just as everyone was moving along to the changing rooms, Ginny caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and halted, focusing her gaze on the figure who'd just risen from the very back of the stands. Blaise Zabini caught her eye and winked. She quickly looked away, a fresh scowl on her face. Would he stop doing that?! And what was he doing down here anyway? Was he spying on the team, or following her? What a ridicules idea! She glances back up again, but he'd left.

Everything was falling into place again; Quidditch practice had begun, the team was preparing for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw; Ginny was getting used to her more advanced N.E.W.T. classes; September drifted into October with a gush of chilled weather; the first Hogsmeade weekend had even been announced; and Draco Malfoy seemed to have lost his newfound interest in her suffering. However, the education at Hogwarts was never complete without a few bumps in the road.

"Bloody git!"

"Don't do anything stupid, Ginny!" Hermione pleaded as Ginny hurriedly climbed out of the portrait hole, nudging a couple of third graders out of the way in the process.

"Yeah? Watch me!" She called over her shoulder before storming down the hallway.

Ginny was fuming as a result of the DADA class of the afternoon. Snape hadn't only managed to ignore the fact that she'd successfully achieved the hex of today's assignment before anyone else, but he'd also given her a bad grade on her essay on "Dragons in war", which was totally unfair since she knew that everything she'd written was accurate. In addition, he'd taken 15 points from Gryffindor when all she'd done was laugh (as quietly as she could, one might add) at Peter Dinkle when his hex backfired. When Ginny had argued that laughing was hardly something to be punished so severely for, Snape had smirked and countered that if her laugh wasn't so loud and offensive, then maybe he wouldn't have needed to take any points. In turn, all the Slytherins had laughed at her, which of course, he'd done absolutely nothing about.

The entire ordeal had been so degrading, that Ginny had decided to take matters into her own hands and get some well deserved revenge on the Professor. She kept a secret stash of various Wizard Wheezes artefacts in the passage behind the mirror in the abandoned storage room on the fourth floor, most of which was provided by Fred and George, in the hopes that chaos would still wreck the halls of Hogwarts from time to time. They had recently reinvented a new and more powerful dungbomb that could, in extreme cases, lead to loss of consciousness for those unfortunate enough to breathe in its horrible odour, and Ginny was planning on making Snape her test subject nr. 1.

It was 8:45 in the evening, not so late she'd get in trouble for being out of bed, but late enough for the hallways to be reasonably empty. Ginny was making her way towards the DADA classroom, where she was planning on charming the dungbombs so that the first one to enter the classroom the next morning would get at load of shit shot in their face. Literally. With any luck, that would be Snape. She was so caught up in the blissful thoughts of what his facial expression would look like when presented with her little surprise, that she didn't notice the boy observing her determined marsh as she strode past his hiding place.

"What, exactly, are you doing?"

"Fuck!" Ginny jerked around as his smooth voice tore through the silence of the otherwise deserted hallway.

"Now, now Weasley; language," Malfoy tsk-ed mockingly.

"Whatever," She muttered, catching her breath, before continuing with an accusatory hiss; "you're the one startling me!"

"You didn't answer my question weasel, and if you don't want to spend the rest of the week in detention, I suggest you do." He was speaking in that special voice he reserved only for his duties as Head Boy. It was still a source of astonishment to Ginny, how Dumbledore could ever justify his decision to give Draco Malfoy the shiny badge she had once watched Percy proudly carry around the halls of the castle.

"What question?"

"What. Are. You. Doing?" He repeated slowly, like she was mentally damaged, and jumped down from the alcove where he'd been lounging.

"I'm not doing anything," She replied, a bit too hurriedly. She mentally kicked her own butt.

"Hardly," He looked bored as he sauntered towards her. "You're hiding something behind your back Weasley. Now give it here,"

"Am not!" She cried in desperation, painfully aware that the battle was already lost.

"Really? Do you actually think I'm that daft?"

"Actually, I do," He smirked at her reply.

"15 points from Gryffindor for being rude towards the higher authority,"

"_Higher Authority?!_" She choked out incredulously. He just smirked. "You're hardly the minister of magic, Malfoy. It's no fun molesting you when all you do in return is bossing me around like this!" She exclaimed, tossing her arms in the air and in her moment of apprehension, lost the grip on the box in her hand. "Shit," she scrambled forward, grabbing after it, but Malfoy was much quicker. His seeker reflexes seemed to be in perfect condition and his arm shot out, catching the flying object in midair before she even had time to blink. Ginny watched in horror as he studied the object in his hands and raised an eyebrow as he realized what it was.

"Well, well, well," He drawled, sounding disturbingly much like Snape, Ginny noticed. "This," He glanced at her with a look of malicious satisfaction, "will certainly secure you detention for at least a week," he weighted the box in his hands, and she knew perfectly well he was taunting her, enjoying her misfortune. "I suppose Filch would be very interested to get a look at this," He thought loudly. _First Snape and now Malfoy,_ Ginny thought bitterly, _I must have the worst luck in the school._

"Do you get off on being an arse?" She spat.

"10 points from Gryffindor,"

"Thought so,"

"I'm wondering how to go about this little predicament, weasel," He smirked at her after a moment, and began, slowly, to edge closer to where she was standing. "I could, as I previously considered, hand it over to Filch, and he would surely provide you with a most deserved set of punishments," He grinned gleefully as he continued his approach, "But as I am such a merciful and gracious Head Boy," Ginny scoffed and rolled her eyes, "I'm willing to let it fall upon Professor Snape to sort out this unfortunate event." He stopped, leaving only a small space of about a foot dividing them, and looked down at her. Ginny narrowed her eyes. She took a careful step backwards and felt the rough surface of the stone wall brush against her shoulder blades. She felt very small with him hovering over her like this and it wasn't a feeling she especially enjoyed. The difference in height seemed somehow pronounced.

"And you think _Snape_ is going to be merciful?" She felt exhausted only by the thought of how long the DADA professor would make her stay up, probably scrubbing the floors of the classroom or filing horribly tedious documents from the archives.

"Would you rather I go to Filch, then?" He suggested, raising an eyebrow in question. Ginny considered her options and came to the conclusion that she actually did prefer not to spend time with the caretaker. However, it was a poor consolation to have this time spent with Snape instead. She let out a heavy sigh of defeat.

"Alright," She replied impatiently, "Take the dammed box to Snape then, and tell him I hope he enjoys it. It would probably improve the smell in his office anyway," Malfoy seemed amused. She was about to make him tell Snape that the dungbombs had been intended for him anyway, but in a moment of uncharacteristic reasonability she thought better of it. "May I please be excused now, almighty guarder of the safety of the halls of Hogwarts castle?" She asked sarcastically. He was still blocking her way with his tall frame. She was very aware of how close his body was to hers, and without really knowing why; it made her feel very uncomfortable.

"Go ahead," He smirked, but didn't move. His gaze was unnervingly intense upon her.

"You're such a prat," she shoved his chest forcefully and slipped out through the narrow space between his body and the wall.

"Good luck with the detention," He called after her when she hurriedly disappeared around the corner.

The next morning at breakfast, Ginny was interrupted in her meal by a terrified second grader. He didn't look up when he tentatively patted her on the shoulder, and actually speaking to her seemed to take all the courage he could muster up.

"I've got a note for you," He finally mumbled, "From professor Sn-" He took a deep breath, "Snape,"

Ginny sighed as she took the note. She'd been expecting it, but had still cradled a small hope that the greasy git somehow wouldn't have heard about last night's events. She glanced at the boy and managed a smile,

"Thanks'," She said kindly, "I don't believe I know your name?"

The boy flushed brightly red at her question, and mumbled; "Max," Before hurrying off. Ginny turned in bewilderment to her friends, who had been watching the scene transpire before them.

"Was it something I said?" She asked, slightly baffled, but when they all giggled, she grew frustrated and cried, "What?!"

"Well," Sophie began, still looking amused, "Can't you see that the poor boy is besotted with you?"

"_What?!"_

"Honestly Gin, he was blushing and stuttering all over the place, and the way he looked at you," Ingrid replied with a pointed look of her own.

"But come on, he's just a kid!" Ginny exclaimed, looking over at Max as he sat down with his friends at the other end of the table.

"That doesn't mean he can't fancy you," Sophie retorted, matter of factly, "You are rather attractive, you know, and rather, what shall I say, _sought after_ by the opposite sex in general," She stated while buttering her toast. Ginny nearly choked on her coffee.

"Well, it's true!"Ingrid chimed in, "You're the one getting all the attention around here," She said almost sulkily.

"I will not acknowledge the subject of this conversation," Ginny scoffed.

"Of course you won't," Sophie smiled up at her, "Because despite the fact that you're bright and observant, you're also oblivious to all the, um, _romantic_ attention you attract,"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ginny snapped accusingly, feeling the familiar tingle in her cheeks as she blushed.

"Oh, get over yourself Gin," Ingrid rolled her eyes, "You're pretty, smart, witty, confident and the star chaser at the Quidditch team," She shot her an envious look; "The better part of the male population at this school would like to shag you, okay?"

It didn't turn out to be an especially good day. Ginny spent most of the day being embarrassed about the conversation over breakfast, and that evening she had the detention with Snape. When they finally finished sorting through archives, Ginny thought to herself that she had been let off rather easy, and shuddered to think about what nasty punishment he would have come up with if he'd known the dungbombs were intended for him. She was making her way towards the common room, deep in thought when she turned a corner and a smooth voice spoke to her.

"Hello there gorgeous," Ginny started slightly as she noticed the tall, dark haired boy, hidden by the looming shadows of the dark corridor.

"Um," She furrowed her brows as she realized who it was, "Hello to you too, Slytherin person I've never really spoken with," She said and continued on walking. I truth, she did know his name of course, who didn't? But Ginny wasn't about to let him know that. Blaise Zabini was one of the handsomest boys to walk the grounds of Hogwarts, but Ginny was especially skeptical when it came to Slytherins and he gave the impression of being a bit too fond of himself for her liking at any rate.

"Hey, not so fast!" He called out and sped after her, catching up with her fast pace in a few long strides. She sighed and halted.

"What do you want, then?" She asked apprehensively.

"Can't a handsome bloke like me have an innocent reason for wanting to talk to a pretty girl like yourself?" Blaise Zabinis smile was lopsided and his eyes strangely sparkling. As Ginny seized him up with a dubious look on her face, she had no trouble picturing why so many girls pined for this boy.

"No," She answered bluntly, "You're a Slytherin, and if you're to believe common knowledge, Draco Malfoy's best friend. You might have noticed that the two of us doesn't really see eye to eye. And besides, _I'm _a Gryffindor and a _Weasley_, remember, the sort you Slytherins loathe almost as much as a full-blooded muggle?"

His grin widened, "Well, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" He asked, looking amused.

"And why shouldn't I be, when guys like you and ferret-boy keep bothering me no matter what I do?"

"I'm so sorry if I've caused you any displeasure,"

"No, you're not," She scoffed and once again continued walking.

"What's wrong with meself and my boy Draco anyway?" Blaise went on, sounding oddly curious.

"Well, despite the fact that you're both arrogant, self-centered pricks who've had everything in life handed to you on a silver platter since you shot out your poor mothers' wombs and continue to believe that everyone is going to act that way towards you however badly you treat them, then; nothing, really," She shot him a sidewise glare, but he still looked amused, "Well, and of course your deluded sense of reality and that you're a couple of stupid gits,"

"Is that so?" He chuckled.

"Yes, now, will you please leave me alone?" She was getting more annoyed by this boy by the minute.

"No," He said, crossing into her path and blocking her way in the narrow corridor they had entered. "Not before you agree to go with me to Hogsmeade."

"I won't do that," Ginny blurted out in astonishment. Why on earth he would want to take _her_ to the neighborhood village was beyond her comprehension.

"Why not?" He sounded sincerely disappointed.

"Besides the list of non-flattering points I listed up about you just now; I don't do guys like you."

"You mean devilishly handsome, charming blokes with shameless reputations," His self-assured grin was back at display.

"Yes," She replied drily, "that's the exact specimen I was talking about. Now, if you'll excuse me," She pushed past him and disappeared down the dark hallway and before he had time to gather his wits and follow her steps, she'd slipped into a secret passage behind a tapestry featuring the famous wizard Hengist of Woodcroft as he defeated a particularly frightening, carnivorous thorn bush.

* * *

**And that's it for now I'm afraid. Plz comment, makes me v happy! Until next time ;) **


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